This is a new story I'm writing as I post, based on an idea I had over Christmas. It is a first draft and not published anywhere else – I'm trying to prompt myself to get the writing done (and avoid working on my dissertation, haha)! Please let me know what you think!

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Darcy sat with his feet up on one of the chairs in Bingley's dressing room. The mid-December cold snap had driven them all indoors, and this morning he was occupied with watching Bingley's valet brush his coat, not quite to his friend's satisfaction.

"I really think it would be better to return to London for the rest of the winter," Darcy said mildly. His own black coat sat easily on his shoulders – clean, brushed, respectable, and otherwise out of mind. Darcy rarely had time for the fuss his friend made over clothes and grooming, and certainly not when there was no one to entertain but themselves.

"Absolutely not, and I shall hear no more of it," Bingley said. "I have always wanted – Bother it, James! Can't you – " and he seized the brush himself, made several attempts to attack some lint otherwise invisible to the unaided eye, and handed the brush back to his man, slightly mollified. "Darcy – I shall hear no more of it. I have always wanted to spend Christmas in the country, and Hertfordshire is as charming a place as any."

Mr. Darcy could very well think of what his friend meant by the charms of Hertfordshire. The attentions of Mr. Charles Bingley to Miss Jane Bennet were impossible to ignore. Every morning he prepared his toilet as if to meet the Prince of Wales, on the off chance that Miss Bennet might again come to call. Every dinner he found some way to bring her into the conversation, no matter how far or stretched. Last night Darcy had introduced the subject of horticulture as a private joke, to see how long it would take Bingley to mention Miss Bennet's preferences. Within no more than three minutes, the table was privileged to hear Miss Bennet's opinions on lilies (attractive, but so much trouble to care for properly), roses (most pleasing in pink and yellow; red and white lovely on their own, but together bringing to mind the sad civil war that had marred so many English counties) and even rhododendrons (Miss Bennet did not care for them).

Darcy had smiled across the table at Mrs. Hurst; but in truth he was beginning to fear he was falling suspect to the charms of Hertfordshire himself. Miss Elizabeth Bennet's dancing eyes were before his mind more often than he would like to say. While Bingley was clearly smitten with the elder Miss Bennet, and this was amusing, Darcy would be lying to say he was not aware of the danger to himself of remaining too long in the provinces. In particular as he did not believe his friend's affection to be requited. Bingley being unsuccessful in love in the country would be amusing; two bachelors such as themselves being thrown over by the same inconsequential family did not bear thinking about.

Finally satisfied with his coat and the crinkles in his cravat, Bingley caught Darcy's eye in the mirror. "And," he said, looking smug, "I shall throw a ball. A New Year's ball, before the end of the month. Oh, don't look like that, Darcy, by heaven. You know January is the gloomiest month of all of them."

"It certainly is in the country," Darcy muttered.

"I heard that," Bingley said archly.

"I meant you to," Darcy said. But Bingley carried on as if no words had been spoken.

"And you must help lead the dancing, I will have no more of this standing at the side glowering at everyone. Come! It will be perfectly charming."

"The amount of times today I have heard you say the word charming," Darcy said. "Who are you trying to convince?"

"You will never be convinced by words," Bingley said. "Only deeds for you."

Darcy went to swat him – but Bingley ducked, laughing. "Now – hang it, Darcy, you have knocked my cravat askew!"

The thought of keeping his friend company for another endless round of tweaks and crimps was too much for Darcy to bear, and he took his leave. He retired downstairs to the library, where he summoned a servant for a cup of strong coffee. The Edgeworth he had been reading last night was where he had left it, on the side table, and he returned to it with pleasure; but his mind was otherwise occupied and he could not give the book his full attention.

So Bingley would be staying a while longer, in fact months. Darcy had hoped he could use Christmas to dislodge his friend from his country seat, but there seemed to be no chance of that now.

Darcy would return to Pemberley for Christmas, of course. It was Georgiana's favourite holiday, and Darcy privately enjoyed it too. The halls would be hung with greenery, and the tenants would raise the Christmas tree with singing and wassail.

Perhaps this spell out of Hertfordshire would help him. Even in this cold snap of winter, when there was little likelihood of anyone venturing outside who did not have to, the Miss Bennets were rather too near for Darcy to feel fully secure. He would spend the holiday in Derbyshire and put Hertfordshire behind him. Bingley, he thought darkly, must look after himself.

At the very least, Darcy comforted himself in thinking, and returning to his book, Bingley's sisters might knock some sense into him.

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Thank you for reading! I hope to post the next chapter soon. Next we hear from Elizabeth...